


Stars Fall

by tumantuke



Category: Senki Zesshou Symphogear
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Fluff and Angst, POV First Person, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 22:53:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6169933
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tumantuke/pseuds/tumantuke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a few weeks after the Lunar Attack.</p><p>Ryouko Sakurai has been defeated, and the world has been saved. After two weeks in hiding, Hibiki has returned to Miku. Everything should be fine now.</p><p>(It's not.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stars Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for Senki Zesshou Symphogear Season 1.  
> Written from Hibiki's perspective.

* * *

 

**1.**

**Wrong.**

Something is wrong.

I sit up, reaching with my free hand to wipe the sleep from my eyes. The clock on the wall says it's close to 4 in the morning. I'm so groggy I almost miss it. Someone is whimpering.

It sounds like someone's heart breaking.

Miku.

I turn to her. Even in the dark, even through the sleep-tangled curtains of hair that cover her face, I can see her eyes. The dim light catches on tracks of tears. She's squeezing her eyes shut as hard as she can. Curled up in a ball.

Every now and then she trembles, says something I can barely hear. But it sounds like my name.

"Miku?" I whisper. I reach out, lay a tentative hand on her shoulder.

She jerks violently as I touch her and I pull back my hand like it's been burned. I've never seen her like this. It's awful.

"Miku?"

Her own hands are grasping at air, pulling up the bedsheets, looking for something. I try again, lay my hand in hers. She grabs it, hard, so hard, it's like she's drowning and my hand is the only thing keeping her head above water. She pulls it to her face, presses it to a cheek damp with tears. As I watch her, her breathing slows until it's nothing like the shaky gasps from just a few minutes ago.

Eventually she relaxes her grip on my hand. It's over.

How long has this been going on?

How have I not noticed until now?

I don't want to take my eyes off her for a second.

I sit there watching her, stroking her hand, until the sun comes up.

 

* * *

 

**2.**

**Training.**

"Focus, Tachibana!"

Tsubasa's cry brings me back to the problem of the moment. That "problem" is her wooden training sword arcing toward my face.

I barely manage to catch it on the side of my padded gloves and knock it aside. The effort sends me tumbling backward, and I land with an impact that goes straight up my spine.

"Sorry!" I say, giving her my best sheepish laugh. My heart's not in it. And now my butt hurts too.

Tsubasa shakes her head and shoulders her sword. She heads for the benches against the nearby wall. Ever since Miss Ryoko did what she did, we've had to have our training sessions in the abandoned school gym, which somehow survived the worst of the destruction. All of the 2nd Division's facilities were destroyed. I miss them. We can't train with our Gears here because the chance of accidentally blowing something up is too high. Also the 2nd Div training room had a padded floor. And a drinks machine.

She grabs a pair of towels and tosses one to me, wiping the sweat from her brow. Even as distracted as I am I can't help but notice how she manages to look cool even when she's training. I don't think I've ever seen her out of breath during one of these sessions. The fact that she manages to keep her hair exactly like it always is that even when she's whipping around the room with a heavy piece of wood is a little miracle.

I cross my legs under me and wipe the exertion off my face. The towel used to be white. It's not now. Tsubasa makes her way back to me with her usual poise. Her towel stays clean, somehow.

"Are you alright?" she says.

"I'm fine!" I say, still looking at my towel. "Everything's fine."

It seems weird, to practise against a sword with just my fists. The difference in the way we fight keeps us off balance. Mostly me.

It can't be helped. It's just the two of us today. The Commander is out helping Chris pick things up for her new apartment. He hasn't made her train with us yet. Miku says it's because the Commander knows she had a hard life, and doesn't want to force her to be part of something she might not want to commit to. Tsubasa says it's because 2nd Division hasn't invented training missile launchers yet.

Without the Commander here Tsubasa seems to think she needs to work me twice as hard.

I look up to see Tsubasa staring at me. She looks worried. When Tsubasa looks worried, something is definitely wrong. She usually keeps her emotions under tighter wraps. She gets on her knees and looks into my eyes.

"Tachibana. Are you alright?" she repeats. "You were distracted today. Your mind wasn't here. If this happens on the battlefield, you could get hurt."

I grin at her again. "That's why Tsubasa's there to protect me, right?"

She frowns and sits down in front of me, eyes still locked with mine. "What's wrong?"

"Huh?"

"You're smiling, but the smile isn't in your eyes. The last time you were like this, you and Kohinata weren't talking. Did you fight again?"

Instead of answering her right away, I wind my grimy towel between my hands. It's strangely calming.

"Tachibana?"

I gather my words carefully. Tsubasa is older, and stronger, and she's been through so much. She might be able to help.

Because when she woke up this morning, Miku smiled, and said good morning, and we went and got breakfast like nothing was wrong. I'd tried to ask her about last night but the words didn't come out. They never do when it matters. I wouldn't walk her home because I had training, so she went off on her own. She looked like she always did. Smiling. Calm. Like the Miku I've always known.

"Tsubasa, what do you do when someone you care about is hurting?" I ask.

Tsubasa stares at me, studying me with those intense purple eyes. She sighs. And gives me one of her rare smiles.

"I don't know."

"You don't?"

"No," she says, sighing again. "I wasn't the one who knew how to deal with things like that. It was always Kanade."

"Kanade?"

"Yes. When I was scared, or nervous, or sad, she always knew the right thing to say. Or do."

"I wish I'd known her," I say. Even though Kanade's Gungnir is in my heart, even though I carry her last words to me alongside it, even though I'd seen her in Tsubasa's memories when we joined hands, I never got to really know Kanade.

She was beautiful, and strong, and...

Gone.

"She would have liked to have known you," Tsubasa says. "But Kanade..."

"Tsubasa?"

"She was so busy being strong for me, and for everyone, that I don't think she ever got time to be weak for herself. Sometimes, she was sad, but she put her best face on and kept putting one foot in front of the other. When we were younger, she was so angry, all the time. All she cared about was destroying the Noise, taking vengeance on them for killing her family. I think that went away when we became closer."

"Why?" I say.

"I think it's because sometimes you can't cry when someone else is crying in front of you. So you put it somewhere else. And you help them before you help yourself."

I think about that for a second. When I was still in the hospital, when I was going through rehab, how often did I catch Miku wiping away a tear she didn't want me to see?

How often has she put her pain somewhere else because I was hurting?

Tsubasa shakes her head. "Living like that is hard. It takes a lot of strength. Kanade was stronger than anyone I've known. But ever since she died... there are things I never got to say. When I realized that Kanade would always be with me, I managed to get them out. But I wish I'd said them sooner. I wish I'd told her that it was okay for her to cry too, when she was still there in front of me."

Tsubasa doesn't bother hiding the sadness in her eyes. And to my surprise, she reaches out and folds me into a hug. How does she always smell so nice, even after training?

"If Kohinata is in pain," she says, "no matter how hard it is, talk to her about it. Tell her it's okay. Tell her she doesn't have to be the strong one all the time. Because there are things that have to be said, before it's too late."

We sit there for a minute. She cradles my head like I'm a baby.

Suddenly the moment is shot through with an overpowering aura. I look up. The Commander is standing a few feet away, shirtsleeves rolled up, arms folded across his massive chest, stroking his beard in consideration. Like he does with everything, he makes his decision quickly and forcefully. Without a word, he reaches down and sweeps both of us into one of his own hugs. It's like being crushed by a pile of rocks made entirely out of of kindness. He hauls us to our feet with core strength alone and dusts us off.

"Commander!" Tsubasa says, blushing. Her uncle is much more comfortable with physical contact than she is. It must have taken everything Tsubasa had to hug me, but he doles hugs out like free food. And he means every single one he gives.

"You two seemed down," he said. "I thought I would say something. But if there's anything I've learned from you girls, it's that there are things stronger than words." A grin splits his darkly tanned face. "Training is over for the day. Good work."

There's a polite cough. "And Tsubasa, we need to talk about your upcoming overseas event," Mr. Ogawa says. No one ever notices him until he speaks. In a way he and the Commander are opposites. The Commander is loud, and huge. Mr. Ogawa is quiet, and less huge. But they're both so gentle.

"Go home, Hibiki," says the Commander. "Rest."

Tsubasa smiles at me, then walks off with Ogawa, her towel wrapped around her neck. I start for home too. I need to think about Tsubasa's words.

And shower. I hope no one noticed, but I smell like sweat and leather.

 

* * *

  
**3.**

**Home.**

A dry towel hurtles across the living room and wraps itself around my face as soon as I step through the door of the apartment I share with Miku.

"H-hey!" I peel it away to see Miku sitting at the dinner table, one hand copying her notes from today's classes into my notebook, the other hand clamped firmly around her nose. "Miku?"

"You reek like sweat. And leather." She points sternly at the bathroom door, staring at her notes. "Bath, now. Or I'm sleeping in the bottom bunk."

There's no point in arguing with her when she's like this.

And I do reek.

I tiptoe around her and pop into the bathroom. I'm in such a rush that I don't even bother folding my clothes in the basket properly. Anyway, they smell and they're going right in the wash as soon as I can help it.

I yelp as the water hits me. It's freezing. It's like a thousand ice needles stabbing me in the most sensitive places.

Miku can probably hear me whooping from out there.

 

* * *

 

**4.**

**Dinner.**

"That smells nice," Miku says. She's put aside the notebooks. Dinner is ready.

It should smell nice. It's her shampoo.

I sit down and dig in almost before we finish giving thanks for the food. A lot of things make me hungry, but training is at the top of the list.

As I stuff my face, I notice something's missing - the sound of Miku's chopsticks.

I look up. She's staring at me, smiling.

"What?" I say, swallowing my mouthful.

"It's almost your birthday," she says brightly. "But you're still such a messy eater."

"I can't help it!" I say. "The food you make is delicious."

She purses her lips. "That was an instant rice packet. I got it from the convenience store up the street. All I did was pour the hot water."

I wolf down another mouthful. "Well, the food you buy is delicious!"

She laughs. This Miku and the Miku from the night before are almost different people. I wonder if I was the one having the nightmare, and not her.

The memory of her face, scrunched up in pain and terror, seems hazy and unreal. Still...

I set down my chopsticks. "Hey, Miku..."

"Hibiki?" she says, resting her chin in her hands.

"Are you..."

Again, I struggle to get the words out. Why does this only happen when I'm trying to say something important?

She cocks her head to one side. There's so much warmth in her blue eyes. She's serene, and beautiful, and she looks worried about me. More worried than she's ever looked about herself.

It must have been just a bad dream.

I sigh. "Nothing."

Miku smiles, reaches across the table, gives my hand a gentle squeeze.

It has to have been just a bad dream.

Right?

 

* * *

 

 

**5.**

**Wrong, part 2.**

The hard knot of fear in the pit of my stomach keeps me up. I couldn't sleep, even if I wanted to.

So it's well past midnight and I'm wide awake. I turn over to face Miku.

The moonlight filtering through the curtains makes her look even paler than she already is. Every now and then the strands of hair that cover her face stir, fluttering with her breath.

I want to protect her.

I've been lying awake for nearly an hour when it begins. Her breathing becomes shallow. Sharp. She starts twitching and jerking in her sleep. I clasp her hand in mine, whisper her name.

Like the last time, she grips my hand like a vise. This time it doesn't help. Her tears start flowing. She starts to cry out as she trembles. This time I can clearly hear it.

"Hibiki!"

Her cries are like a chant.

It's like she's calling out my name to ward off her pain.

And it's not working.

I want to protect her, but I don't know how. Not from this.

I know how to sing. I know how to play the guitar. I know how to punch things.

How do you punch a nightmare?

She pulls my hand close and curls into a ball, shaking like a kitten caught out in the rain.

That's when I get mad. I'm sure she would have, too, if she saw me like this.

"Miku!" I say, as loud as I can. I start shaking her.

She jerks out of sleep, her eyes wild, lost, searching. They find mine.

"Hibiki? You're here?"

Before I can respond she flings her arms around my neck.

"You're here," she breathes, sobbing. "You're here."

 

* * *

 

  **6.**

**Never Leave.**

The smell of cocoa fills the dining room as I pour the packet into a mug of hot water. Miku bought the box from the convenience store up the street. We don't drink it at night because it would be impossible to sleep if we did.

I don't think we'll be sleeping again tonight.

Miku is sitting at the table, looking a thousand years old, like she's still trapped in the nightmare I pulled her out of. Her gaze is fixed on a point somewhere below the floor.

She accepts the mug that I hand to her, though. She holds it in her lap as though it's the most precious thing in the world. I pull up a chair and sit down next to her, trying to read her face. I don't want to take my eyes off her again.

"Miku-" I say. She shakes her head, cutting me off.

I wait. I'm willing to wait as long as it takes. As long as she waited for me, when I was hurting.

It doesn't take that long.

"Every day," she begins, then stops. And breathes. She raises the mug to her lips and takes a sip.

The chocolate seems to help. She turns to me, still looking lost, fragile. But at least she's looking at me now.

She tries again. "You were dead."

Her words are like a spike through my heart. "Miku..."

"You died, Hibiki." She shudders, looks back at her mug, takes another sip. "I saw you fly up into the sky with Chris and Tsubasa. I saw the explosion when you hit the moon fragment. I put flowers on your empty grave."

"There were shooting stars when the fragment broke apart. It was funny. I thought, 'I wish Hibiki were here to see this'. And then I realized, you would never watch the shooting stars again. With me or anyone else."

Her fingers tighten around the mug like she's trying to crush it. I lay my hand on her arm, mute. She doesn't jerk away like she did last night, in her sleep. But she doesn't respond to it either.

Miku takes a deep breath and continues. "Every day of those two weeks, I woke up. Into a world where I couldn't ever see you again."

She looks at me again and smiles. But there's a bitter edge to her smile, and tears are welling in her eyes. "And then you came back. And for a while I thought everything would be okay again."

There's a clink as Miku sets the mug down on the dinner table. "There's a dream. You're in the dream. You're falling. And I'm trying to catch you. But I can't. You're falling too fast. Like a shooting star. You burn, you fall, you disappear, then..."

She's crying again. My hand tightens on her arm, almost unconsciously. "I don't know if you're real or if I'm still dreaming. I don't know if I'm going to wake up and find out I'm in that world again. The world where I'm alive and you're not. So I smile. And I fix you dinner. And I run with you, and laugh with you, and pray that you're there when I open my eyes."

I stand. Find my voice. Choke through tears.

"I'm here now," I say.

She buries her face in her hands. "How can I believe you?"

There are things that have to be said before it's too late. But I'm bad at talking. So I say them in the only way I can.

I pull Miku's hands from her face, lean down, and press my lips to hers.

There are things stronger than words.

She pulls away from me, opens her eyes. Her tears are still shining on her cheeks, but the pain in her eyes is gone for the first time all night.

"Hey, Miku." I whisper. "Do you believe me now?"

"No," she says, standing and brushing her hair out of her face. "You have to try harder."

So I do.

And this time she kisses me back. I'm drowning and her warmth is the only thing keeping my head above water. It's a much better kind of drowning.

"I still don't believe you," she breathes. And kisses me again, pushing me backward. I don't realize what she's doing until my leg bumps into the couch.

I pull away for a second, trying to catch my breath. I can feel myself flushing though, the heat spreading across my body. "Miku, are you sure?"

She answers by reaching down and pulling my shirt over my head. The night air hits my bare skin in a rush. I shiver, not just because of the cold.

Miku has helped me with my clothes before. For the longest time it was just one more thing about living with her. But tonight is different.

Tonight we're proving we're alive.

She peels off her own clothes. There's an urgency to her movements I've never seen. Even so, she folds her shirt and lays it on the dinner table, then takes the time to lay her underwear beside it. I can't help but laugh. That's Miku for you.

The laugh catches in my throat as Miku turns to me.

"Well?" she says.

Of course we've seen each other naked. Countless times.

But this is different too.

Miku blushes and looks away. "You're staring, Hibiki."

"I-I can't help it."

She pouts. "You never did it before."

"I never looked at you like this before."

She laughs. It's an airy, musical thing. And whispers. "I've always looked at you this way."

"Always?"

Miku moves in and embraces me, her body pressing against mine. Warmth floods me. "Always."

She plants a soft kiss on my cheek...

"... it made-"

-then my neck-

"- taking baths with you-"

-then the scar between my breasts-

"- really hard."

Next thing I know, I'm sitting with my back against the couch, Miku's mouth still moving over my body, her fingers entwined with mine. The couch and the floor are cold. She isn't. She really, really isn't.

Her lips find one of my nipples. I can't help it. It's embarrassing, I know. But a tiny noise of pleasure escapes my lips anyway.

After a second she pulls away, kisses me again, deeper. Her tongue probes, pushes my lips apart. Before long we're swaying back and forth against each other, eyes closed, not needing to see, just feeling. Her free hand moves across mine, slips upward. She tweaks one of my breasts gently before tracing her way down, between my legs, stroking, slipping into me, sending silver waves shooting through my body.

Well if I have to go, I'm not going alone.

I follow suit, pressing my own hand into her. Even the sparse curls between her thighs are damp now. I move my fingers into her, keenly aware that I've only ever done this to myself before, scared I'm going to do something wrong, hurt her, or just mess it up. A muffled moan comes out of Miku, her lips still locked with mine.

Turns out it's really hard to moan when you're kissing someone.  
  
The next few minutes are a blur. I'm dimly aware of Miku bucking against my hand, shaking, crying "Hibiki!" over and over again. And there's someone else crying out too, saying Miku's name, someone else rocking to the motion of her fingers, shuddering, collapsing into her.

... I think it might be me.

I gather Miku into my arms, trying to catch my breath. She barely even seems tired. It's not fair. She used to do track. I just punch things.

We lie there like that, ignoring the cold floor, ignoring the curtains fluttering in the brightening dawn, ignoring the ticking of the clock, ignoring everything except each other.

She nuzzles into my neck. "I believe you now," she says softly. "And I love you."

The sun is rising. I kiss her on the forehead. "Please don't worry me like that again."

Miku laughs. "No. Worrying is my job." She looks into my eyes. The ghost of her sadness flickers there again, briefly. "Just don't leave me again."

I squeeze her hand. "I won't. Not ever."

"It's a promise," she says sunnily. "Although..."

"What?"

"I think we're going to be late for school."

 


End file.
